


point of view

by tenderized



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bodyswap, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, couple's therapy: become your own bf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderized/pseuds/tenderized
Summary: A little self-love never hurt anyone.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 103





	point of view

**Author's Note:**

> pov - ariana grande
> 
> thank you to [@closingheart](https://www.twitter.com/closingheart) for reading it over beforehand T_____T to make sure it was palatable

“This is really fucking weird, Atsumu.” Suna cringes at the tone of his voice, the way the consonants scrape against the back of his throat and come out rounder than he’s used to. The way his voice cracks, like it never usually does. “Even for you.”

“What’s weird?” Atsumu asks, with Suna’s voice, his mouth twisting into a smug smirk that shows too much fang, one that’s distinctly _un-Suna_ , like it's not Weird with a capital W that's he’s pawing at his own front with Suna’s hands right now. “It’s basically masturbation, isn’t it?”

He crowds Suna up towards the headboard, palms planting themselves on the mattress next to the other’s hips, and Suna shifts back, sour as he suddenly becomes all too aware of the loss of his height advantage. 

His eyes shift down as Atsumu leans forward, and he finds that Atsumu’s already got a bottle of lube gripped in his right hand. Which. Holy shit. Because this is really happening.

“That desperate to fuck yourself?” he says weakly, one hand wrapped around the other’s bicep, and his cheeks feel hot. 

Ignoring him, Atsumu reaches out, cups one side of his face wonderingly. “I dunno, Sunarin, you sure that’s not you?” His fingertips trail down the side of Suna’s neck as he maps out the flush. “Never seen you blush like this before.”

 _Abort!_ Suna thinks and reddens further because like this he’s exposed, and there’s nowhere to hide, not when Atsumu already knows Suna better than most, knows _himself_ inside and out.

Atsumu’s still looking at him, and Suna’s been told before that his stare is unnerving, just this side of too intense, and to have that very gaze on him now, well.

Heat sparks low in his stomach, and he swallows.

Atsumu’s fingers leave him, but the shadow of his touch stays. Then, he’s leaning back to settle on his haunches, and his hand is drawing back to hike up his shirt and touch at the hard planes of his own stomach – _Suna’s stomach_ – before reaching lower, reaching past the waistband of his shorts to palm himself.

“Oh, you’re eager,” he sneers, but Suna’s not paying attention anymore, distracted by the sight of his own hand pulling at his hardening cock. Which, he’s seen before, obviously, but, okay, it’s different from the other side.

Like this, looking at himself through Atsumu's eyes, he’s _hot_.

This sends another wave of heat rushing to Suna’s cheeks, and, yeah, that’s becoming annoying fast, how does Atsumu live like this?

Almost as if he can tell what he’s thinking, Atsumu smirks, right on cue, and Suna rolls his eyes, before he’s reaching out to pull Atsumu in closer, closer, until they’re mouth to mouth.

Atsumu presses in close, one hand settling down on Suna’s hip, thumb to bare skin, and the part of his lips is eager.

He’s greedy still, still Atsumu through and through, and his tongue licks into Suna’s mouth, warm and wet and tasting faintly of the raspberries Suna had been eating before he’d felt that strange pull at his bellybutton and their world had been tipped upside down and twisted inside out.

Suna’s hands find their way to the other’s ass, slipping below his shorts, and Atsumu slides his tongue along the roof of his mouth and behind the backs of his teeth, chasing the taste of himself.

When Atsumu bites down on his lower lip, Suna moans, the sound cutting off as he startles again at the difference in sound. Atsumu just grins, dipping down to connect them again, slick slide of tongue and spit soothing the sting. His knees nudge at Suna’s thighs, urge them to part more, and Suna reaches up to curl his hand along the other’s jaw, brushing back flyaway strands of dark hair and tucking them behind Atsumu’s ear.

All of a sudden, his heart gives a happy little stutter, warmth blooming in his chest, and he laughs, startled.

“You like my hair,” he gloats, realizing. “Like its length. You never said.” And as the words leave his mouth, he finds it to be the truth. “Your body’s as transparent as you are.” It's something to tuck in the corner of his heart and pick at later. But not now.

Instead of flustering, however, “I like everything about you, Rin,” Atsumu confesses shamelessly. “Thought you knew that.” His fingers fumble at Suna’s pants, and wordlessly, Suna reaches down to help, shoving both sweats and underwear off at once. “Especially when you’re me.” He winks.

Suna snorts, shoves Atsumu back so he has room to move down the bed.

“How are we doing this?” he asks. He knows how _he_ wants it, which is with Atsumu doing all the work, but recently he’s found himself willing to make sacrifices, exceptions when Atsumu’s the other party.

“I wanna fuck myself,” Atsumu says, ever blunt, even as he’s dripping lube onto his own fingers and then wrapping his hand around his cock. “Prep yourself. I wanna see.”

“Of course you do,” Suna mutters, but he reaches out to catch the bottle of lube when Atsumu tosses it over.

“Can’t you do it?” he complains, just to be a brat, uncapping the bottle and squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers, warming it between them. It’s a protest without heart, however, because Atsumu’s tugging off his own shorts and tossing them to the side, long fingers wrapping themselves around Suna’s cock again, jacking it with an ease that speaks of familiarity.

“But you do me so well, babe.”

Suna swallows and leans back on one forearm, holds his shirt between his teeth, his spit wetting the hem, so he can see what he’s doing. He folds an arm around one of his thighs, bringing it up to his chest, for better access, and then his other hand is between his legs. His middle finger circles his rim, once, twice, and he tenses at the sensation before he relaxes and pushes in. 

He inhales sharply through his nose, a gasp muffled by his shirt, and squirms to adjust. His eyes snap to Atsumu, whose gaze is fixed hungrily on the movement of his fingers, moving in and out and in again.

He opens his mouth to speak, and the shirt drops from his mouth.

“Remember to blink,” he says, trying to be snide, but the effect is lost in a moan as he adds a finger and curls them.

Atsumu’s breaths are coming in short, and he brings his own hand to cover the one Suna’s got on his own thigh, to push his legs further apart and spread him wide open. 

Suna hisses. “Careful, jerkass. In case you forgot, your body’s stiffer than – ” His words are lost as he adds a third finger, and he bites down on his bottom lip in concentration, eyebrows furrowed together as he tries to find Atsumu’s prostate. 

Everything is so _different_ on the other side because he knows what Atsumu’s fingers feel like inside of him, at this point knows Atsumu’s fingers like his own, but here, being the one to push them into himself, everything’s strange and new.

“Oh, trust me, Rin,” Atsumu says. “I haven’t forgotten.” And he shoves further, nails digging into the flesh of his thigh and bending Suna nearly in half.

“ _You’re_ the one that’s gonna feel yourself in the morning,” Suna replies, and he twitches in annoyance when all he gets is Atsumu’s answering grin.

Suna’s taken to propping himself up with his other hand, and in this position, his cock, hard and leaking pre-come, lies neglected on his stomach. His hips kick up to ride his fingers, chasing the sensation.

“Touch me, you asshole,” Suna whines and pulls out to collapse onto the bed, tired and a little irritated because Atsumu’s not doing anything but looking. His hole, bereft and mourning the loss of his fingers, feels empty and wanting, and he wraps his free leg around the other to bring him closer, missing the contact.

Atsumu chases after him, leaning over him, and drags both wrists up, pinning them above Suna’s head with one hand. Like this he’s looming almost, and soon Suna can’t see anything else, can’t look away, away from himself, his eyes and the pink of his tongue in his mouth as Atsumu pants.

He squeezes his eyes shut and fears he’ll need a mirror next time he wants to get off, will have to turn their bedroom into some horror show funhouse at an amusement park. 

God if this awakens something in him, he swears he’ll kill Atsumu.

Atsumu, who _finally_ rolls his hips down to rub their cocks together and then brings a large hand down to wrap around them both, giving a couple of lazy pumps that have Suna digging his heels into the other’s thighs for more.

His breath, warm, rasps against Suna’s jaw as he licks a broad stripe up his neck before sucking a mark in the spot below his ear and then another at the base of his throat. Suna shivers, his skin sensitive where the spit cools.

“You always know what to say to get me in the mood,” Atsumu snarks but as always, he’s so obedient, so obliging of every one of Suna’s whims. He brings his hand up and brushes his bangs away from Suna’s forehead with the back of his knuckles and then cups the side of Suna’s face, which, _gross_ , his hand’s all greasy, but Suna leans into it anyway.

Atsumu looks down, fits his long fingers into Suna, just enough to have the other straining and rutting up before pulling away slightly to line up with Suna’s entrance, and Suna sucks in a breath, anticipation dizzying. As Atsumu leans down, longer strands of his hair hang down to caress Suna’s face, making him wrinkle his nose at the tickle.

The other stops, then, looking up at Suna through his lashes like he’s waiting for something, and Suna hisses, annoyed. He bucks, gritting his teeth and tugging at his wrists, hard, and usually where there’d be no budge, Atsumu actually gives, and this has the two of them staring at each other in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh my god, Rin.” Atsumu looks at his hand as if seeing it for the first time. “Now, that’s just kinda sad.”

Suna stares at him for a moment in disbelief, and then he’s snarling, “Shut the fuck up, you did that on purpose,” and then he’s pulling the other down by the hair into a harsh kiss. By the time they part, Atsumu’s dazed and already forgetting his own joke.

“Now, fuck me, _Rintarou_ ,” Suna says, out of breath and lips tingling pleasantly. "Or, I can get myself off, and you can sleep on the couch."

Something glints in Atsumu’s sharp gaze, and then one hand holding Suna down by the shoulder, thumb at his throat, he rolls his hips and thrusts in without warning, in one fluid motion.

Suna groans deep in his chest, his breath leaving him in an open-mouthed gasp, and he's full, filled to the brim, Atsumu hard and thick inside of him. His back arches for a better angle, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling, and Atsumu’s hand comes to brace him at the waist.

“You’re so fucking tight, babe, so good for me,” Atsumu moans, and his grip on the flesh of Suna's hips is bruising. Suna’s legs tighten to urge him even closer, his fingernails raking down the other’s back, and Atsumu dips down to find his lips, licking between them to the heat inside.

He pulls out to thrust back in, hips moving in a steady rhythm, setting a pace. His bangs stick to his face, dewy with sweat. When he drives home, slamming into Suna’s prostate, Suna whines.

“’Tsumu,” he pants. “Come on, more.”

“You like that, Rin? Feel how good you are? How good you fuck me?” Atsumu babbles, flush spreading rapidly over the bridge of his nose and his breathing harsh in the quiet of their room. Suna raises his hips to meet each thrust, head thrown back and the long line of his neck exposed.

“We could’ve gone with me bottoming, too, actually, your fingers in me, you’d see how good you take my hands and dick, like you were meant to take dick-”

“Atsumu, for the love of God,” Suna moans, “Shut _up_ and stop saying that shit with my face.” He shoves his hand in the other’s face, index and middle finger breaching past Atsumu’s pink kiss-swollen lips, and his own mouth drops open in a sigh as the other sucks, tongue swirling around the base of his fingers and fucking in between them, in tandem with his hips. Spit gathers at the corners.

With his other hand, Suna reaches down to pull at himself, the twist and snap of his wrist hurried. The pull is too dry, and then he’s pulling his other hand out of Atsumu’s mouth to wrap around himself. Atsumu’s hand comes down to cover his.

“Kiss me,” he demands, tangling his fingers in the other’s hair and pulling him down again.

When Atsumu spills inside of him with a low groan, it doesn’t take much more than a few whispered words for Suna’s stomach to tighten, and then he’s coming all over both of their hands as well.

Atsumu pulls out slowly as if savoring the slide, and his fingers wipe at Suna’s rim curiously as he leaks cum. He brings it to his mouth to taste, tongue darting out, and Suna kicks at him weakly.

“Disgusting,” he complains. 

“Hey, it’s your come,” Atsumu says before collapsing on the mattress next to him, skin sticky and hot. “Nothing I haven’t tried before.”

Suna doesn’t bother refuting, instead rolling onto his side, so his back is pressed to the other’s chest, Atsumu's weight solid behind him.

A moment passes, and then, “Hey, Rin?” A knuckle brushes at the nape of his neck, soft, before fingers move higher to touch at the cropped hair of his undercut.

“What?” He wiggles his hips, presses in closer.

“That was fun.” 

Suna snorts. “Okay.”

“When do you think we’ll switch back, though? Soon?”

“I dunno, I could deal with not waking up to your ugly mug every day,” Suna says, even as he reaches behind to pull the other in near, turning around to hike a leg up over the other’s waist. “Why?”

“It’s just, winning games’s gonna be a pain if I have to do it in your body. I’d have to hit the gym twice as much as usual just to get into shape.”

Suna punches at his shoulder, just a tad more forceful than strictly friendly. “Well just imagine what a pain it’d be for _me_. I’d have to have my massive head operated on just to fit it through the doorway.” 

Atsumu nuzzles closer, his nose smushed into the side of Suna’s neck, his breath fluttering and warm against his skin. “Your jokes are so bad, Sunarin, they don’t make any damn sense.”

Suna huffs. “You don’t make sense.”

“Whatever you say, babe.” And then, “I’m tired. Your body doesn’t have much stamina, huh?”

It’s a jibe not worth answering, so Suna doesn’t, eyelids heavy and drowsy now.

“I hope we switch back soon, though.” Atsumu pauses. “Miss seeing your pretty face after.”

“Miss my dick, more like.”

“Mmh, and your ass. It’s just not the same, y’know?”

“I’m sure it’ll happen soon enough. That’s how it works, isn’t it? Power of sex.”

Atsumu laughs. “Sure, power of sex, yeah. ‘S why I stay with you.”

Suna grins. “I could say the same.” He tucks Atsumu’s hair behind his ear tenderly. “Well, we’ll find out in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> the thing is...the more i thought about it, the less weird it got?
> 
> twitter at [@atsusuna](https://www.twitter.com/atsusuna)


End file.
